


P.O.I. High (Part 4)

by mother_finch



Series: P.O.I. High [4]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, mother-finch fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:54:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3637485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: Prompt! RootxShaw being voted cutest couple in their high school yearbook (they may be dating or not -yet-)</p>
            </blockquote>





	P.O.I. High (Part 4)

_May. How is it already May?_ Sameen Shaw thinks of where all the days went, wondering how coats and snow boots melted into tee shirts and sandals. _Not for me, at least,_  she thinks, looking down at her worn, black converse. Her attire hadn’t changed throughout the seasons, it stayed the usual black jeans and black shirt. Tying her dark hoodie around her waist, Sameen slips out of the bus seat and into the aisle way. Stepping out into the morning air, it is pleasantly warm with a small breeze tugging at her shirt. Sweeping a strand of hair behind her ear, she is slightly surprised that her hair is down.  _Must have forgotten a ponytail,_  she says to herself with a sigh. It had been a rough morning to say the least.

Or maybe a rough night- possibly both.  _After school I went straight to Root’s house_ , she recalls. She’d been sick all week. Vomiting, feverish- awful. She had refused every offer to visit from Harold, and to Sameen’s dismay, her own offers as well. _And that’s why I didn’t ask_. She recalls it well, a small smile coming to her face at the memory:

_Pulling the spare key from the light, Shaw unlocked the door, coming inside. Shutting it behind her, she looked around at the darkened room. After a moment, she could hear soft footsteps from the floor above. Taking a quick detour to the kitchen, Shaw grabbed a handful of granola bars, then took the stairs two at a time._

_"Root?" Sameen called, taking a bite from one of the bars. She heard the slamming of a door, and quickly followed. The only door closed was the bathroom, and when Sameen put her ear up to it, she could hear coughing, then vomit. Taking in a deep breath, she pushed open the door, seeing Root kneeling before the toilet, hair stringy and limp; her skin was clammy and sheet white. Shaw stowed the granola bar into her pocket, coming to Root’s side. Just as she did, Root sat back, wiping her mouth with the back of her pale hand. Sameen tilts her head to the side with concern, seeing the deep purple bags under her eyes._

* * *

 

_"What are you doing here?" Root said in a disheartened croak. She leaned back onto the bathroom cabinet, head lolling to the side._

_"Just wanted to check in," Shaw replied, crouching down to be beside her. She’d never admit it, but she felt awful just seeing Root so helpless. "Haven’t seen you all week."_

_Root let out a weak laugh, hand holding her stomach in pain. “The only thing I’ve seen this week is the bathroom.” Shaw gave Root a short, sad smile, then put her hand to Root’s forehead._

_"Have you taken any medicine?" Sameen asked, feeling the fever rage on Root’s head. Root shook her head no._

_"Won’t stay down," she told her, grabbing Sameen’s wrist with little strength as she went to get medicine. It was enough for Sameen to stop, dropping back down to Root’s side. "What day is it?" She’d asked tiredly._

_"Tuesday," Sameen replied, getting a groan from Root in return._

_"Finals tomorrow," she crackled out in exasperation, to which Sameen pursed her lips. "I have to study, oh my-"_

_"You can barely keep your eyes open," Sameen stated, watching Root’s eyelids droop. "It can wait." Root’s eyes stayed shut for a moment, then popped open vigorously. Scampering forward, Root pulled herself up to the toilet bowl, hair falling over her face. Shaw rolled forward onto her own knees, taking Root’s hair and holding it back. Ripping the pony tail from her own hair, Shaw quickly tied Root’s hair up in a sloppy bun, rubbing her back comfortingly. She’d stayed there late into the night. Ms. Groves finally came home and forced her to at least tell her own mother her whereabouts. Shaw called, grudgingly. The conversation was strained; a series of ‘are you sure’s and ‘I guess so’s. Sameen could feel her fingers gripping the phone tight, the tendons of her wrist bulging out at her mother’s tone that night. It had been months, but for some reason unbeknownst to Sameen, her mother was still awkward about her daughter’s relationship. She’d hung up feeling annoyed and flustered, going back to Root._

_Root slept. Sameen didn’t. She’d stayed up until Root dozed off, her head in Sameen’s lap, sprawled out on her bed. After making sure she was out, Sameen eased her away, then stole into her closet, grabbing Root’s textbooks. She studied for hours that she would never admit to, then- still too worked up for sleep- cleaned out Root’s tissue-filled waste bin, and stowed her books back in the closet. Just when she was starting to feel the effects of drowsiness, she chanced a glance at her watch. It was 4:30 a.m. With a sigh, she’d stood from her seat at the edge of the bed, checked Root’s head once more, and debated kissing her on the forehead. After an extended period of time, she decided against it and pulled away, walking back to her home to get ready for class._

_It seems like an eternity ago_ , Sameen thinks to herself, walking towards the school building. She can feel the weight of gravity heavy on her eyelids, and shakes her head to relieve the pressure. Sweeping her hair back once more, she enters the building throughout a crowd of other students, picking out John Reese almost instantly. Quickening her gate, she comes over to him, nodding her head at his group of friends.

"Sup, Shaw," a few murmur in greeting, but her attention is already away from them. John looks her up and down suspiciously.

” _God,_  Sameen,” he says, “you look like  _crap_.” She shoots him a snide glare.

” _Jee, thanks_ ,” the sarcasm drips from her words, but remembering what she needs, she becomes serious. “Do you have any hair ties?”

John falls rigid, while his friends snicker. “Why would I have any of  _those_?” He spits, despising the reactions of the boys around him.

"You always seem to have them in class, flinging them at me," Sameen retorts, eyes locked on his.

"That doesn’t mean I carry th-"

"Do you have one or  _not_ , John,” she demands. John shifts, sneer on his face. Angrily, he shoves a hand into his jean pocket, protruding a single, black band. Stiffly, he hands it to her, and she takes it from him with a cocky smile. She ties her hair up quickly, ignoring the fury radiating from John.

"Catch you guys later," she tells the group, walking off. She heads to her locker, but stops in the middle of the hallway, a confused furrow taking hold of her brow.  _What the…_  As people bump into her, grumbling about the hold up, Sameen looks at the long wall of lockers. At the top locker, about seven in, is droopy but familiar brown hair- still in a messy bun- and a hand that is an unhealthy white. Getting a hard hit to the shoulder, she drops from her daze, shooting dangerous eyes the boy’s way. Seeing her contempt look, his eyes go wide in terror, and he dashes off.

Eyes going back to the figure, Sameen stalks forward, jaw set with displeasure. She stops before her, hearing a dry cough escape her lips.

"Root, what the  _hell_  are you doing here?” Root jumps at her harsh tone, then closes her locker slowly. Looking at her face, Shaw is dismayed. Root’s face is tired, but covered with random and unnecessary amounts of makeup. The unders of her eyes are caked with concealer too dark to match her own, porcelain skin, and her cheeks are drowning in layers of vibrant, powdered-on blush. Eyelids coated in colors meant to be natural, but far from it indeed. With a sigh, Sameen’s voice turns to exasperation. “And what’s up with all the makeup?”

Root’s eyes scan left to right at the other students as she rubs a hand across her cheek. The excess blush smears across her jawline, and she brings her hand to her side.

"I, uh, I didn’t want to look weird," Root replies, voice scratchy still. "You know, with being sick and all."

"I don’t know how well of a job you did on that one," Sameen comments, licking her thumb before wiping the smudged makeup away. There is whispering to Sameen’s left, and she shifts her eyes that way, seeing two girls looking at them. They have smiles on their faces, eyes and hands animated.

"Them?" The first asks.

"Yeah, them," the second replies.

Realizing Shaw’s anger at their intrusion, they rush off with their heads down.  _What was that about?_  Sameen thinks, hearing the two pass by. “Come on,” Sameen says, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the bathroom.

"What are we doing?" Root’s usually flirtatious tone is lost under illness.

"We’re gonna go wash it off."

________\ If Your Number’s Up /________

Root and Sameen slip into their first period science class just as the bell rings. The teacher sends them a smoldering glare, but says nothing. Taking their seats, Sameen steals a quick glance at Root, a small smile coming to her face.  _She looks close to death,_  Shaw says to herself, _but at least she looks like her._  Root turns to talk to Harold, trying to calm his fretful mind.

"What happened? Are you alright? How  _bad_  was it?” The hushed questions hit Root with maximum force, and she continuously assures him she is fine. From the front of the room, the teacher clears his throat.

"As you know," he starts off in a nasally voice. "Tomorrow, you have your science and mathematics finals. Today is, obviously, literature and history. So, to prepare-"

Root lets out a thick, rambunctious cough. He looks at her a moment, then continues. “-for our final, we are having a-“

Another cough, and Sameen looks over to her. She sees Root’s elbow covering her mouth, body jerking with the force. Root looks around sheepishly, eyes landing lastly on Sameen.

'Are you okay?' Sameen mouths to her, and she nods. The teacher, thoroughly annoyed now, starts for a third time.

”- Review day. I have six piles of unit overviews that I want finished by-“

Coughing. Loud, heavy, and painful to the ears. The teacher can take it no longer, watching Root’s body convulse. “Miss. Groves, go to the nurse. And if it is at  _all_  possible,” hostility encasing his every word, “do  _not_  come back.” She looks at him with bewildered eyes, then comes to a sickly stand. Sameen stands as well, drawing the eyes of their fellow classmates. The teacher included gives her a less than satisfied glare.

"I’m going to walk her down, if that’s okay," Sameen tells him. Not waiting for permission, she grabs’s Root’s satchel and walks up the aisle, Root coming up the one beside her.

"Thanks, Sweetie," Root says with a stuffed nose, giving Sameen a grateful smile. Shaw’s lip twitches involuntarily at the pet name, still taken off guard by it when in front of a crowd. Someone whispers in the room, a silent sentence just out of Sameen’s reach, and others nod in agreement. Looking back to them, Sameen is unsettled to find many eyes on her. Sneering at them, she hikes the bag up higher on her arm before stalking out the door.

Once the door closes behind them, Root leans against the cool wall, closing her eyes. “Sam?” She says in a meek voice. Sameen stops to look at her.

"Yeah?"

"I’m going to be sick." She doubles over, hand pressed to the white wall for support.

"Hey hey  _hey_ ,” Sameen says, coming over to her side. She puts her hands on each of Root’s shoulders, easing her back into an upright position. “Just calm down.” She can hear a hiccup of concern in her voice, but her facial expression stays neutral. Unsure how to express any sympathy for her, Sameen settles on one goal:  _get Root home_.

Walking Root forward, she looks down the hallways for any teachers, then pushes through the school’s doors.

"Where are we going?" Root asks.

"Taking you home so you can rest."

” _No_!” She yells, voice cracking, but she doesn’t fight Sameen’s directing.

"You can take your tests another time," Shaw insists, coming to the Senior parking lot. For a moment, both remain silent.

"How are we getting there?  _Walking_?” Root asks, defeated. Sameen lets out a small smirk.

"I’ve hot-wired a few cars in my day," she replies, allowing the satisfaction to roll off her tongue. "Besides, John won’t mind." Coming to a sleek, black , 1971 Dodge Challenger, Shaw pulls a thin, stiff wire from her pocket. Sliding it between the window and door, she wiggles it around momentarily. There is a click, and Sameen retracts the cord, stuffing it back in place, then opens the driver side door. Tossing Root’s satchel to the back, Sameen unlocks the passenger side. Hearing the click, Root makes her way around the vehicle, while Sameen stoops down to rearrange the wires. It takes a minute, but the car finally revs to life, and Sameen pulls it into reverse, closing her door.

Pulling away, Root lets out another fit of coughing, then leans back into the chair with a groan. Sameen takes a peak over at her, then slips her right hand off the wheel. Using only her peripheral vision, Sameen brings her hand up to Root’s temple, brushing a wavy piece of hair from her face. Her fingers slip it behind her ear, then come to rest on her shoulder. Root smiles, looking over at her, and places her own hand atop Sameen’s.

There is a flash, and Sameen’s eyes instantly descend on the source. A group of late comers walk by, camera in hand.  _Yearbook?_  Sameen wonders, trying to identify their almost familiar faces. Shaking her head, she ignores them, drawing her hand back as she turns out of the school zone and onto one of the city’s many roads.

______\ We’ll Find You /______

Sameen parks John’s car, overwhelmed by the silence that surrounds them after the engine’s rumble dies. After a minute of sitting like statues, Root leans back, grabbing her satchel, and rummaging through for keys. Once in her grasp, she pushes open the door, and walks toward her home. Watching her go, Sameen slips her phone from her pocket and unlocks it. Quickly, she pulls up her text messaging tab, shooting her mother a text.

Me: Root’s sick. I drove her home.

Mom: Okay. Are you going back to class?

Shaw thinks of how to answer a moment, before typing a response.

Me: I think I’m going to stay with her for a little. Make sure she’s alright.

Mom: Don’t you think you spend a lot of time with her? Did you ever think of what I said?

 _Yeah,_ Sameen thinks bitterly.  _I thought of it long enough to laugh at the moronic idea._

Me: She is my girlfriend, after all. And I’ve already told you; never going to date John. Okay? I gtg. Bye.

Locking her phone once more, she steps out of the car with prickling annoyance, coming up behind Root to enter her house. Instantly, Root retires to the couch, arms draping across the sofa’s edge as she lays across it. Sameen can feel herself steaming with anger, but drops her malice when she focuses on Root’s exhausted face. Coming over, Sameen shakes her shoulder, and Root opens her eyes wearily.

"Why don’t you grab a shower?" Sameen suggests in a soft, kind voice. "It might help you." Root nods, then stands, walking out of sight to the stairs. Sameen sits on the couch, turning on the television. From the floor above, Sameen hears doors open and footsteps creaking on old floorboards. Finally, the water starts to run.

 _Anything anything,_  her mind prompts as she taps her fingers on her leg.  _Think of anything at all._  Her mind drifts to school.  _The students,_  she ponders, _some of them have been acting strange lately._  She thinks back to the girls whispering in the hallway, the camera flash;  _hadn’t that been happening a lot lately? Progressively_ , Sameen concludes. She’d seen it with other couples- yearbook students came to take multitudes of happy and flamboyant photographs. At first, some had tried with her and Root as well, yet she never stood for a picture. The days went by, students asked, and Sameen declined. It was a grueling cycle.  _'Please, Sam?_ ' She remembers Root asking one day.  _'One photo for the yearbook?'_ After stern eyes met with pleading ones, Sameen finally caved.  _'I hate it when you do the Bambi eyes.'_  Sameen recalls her words with a smile. They stood in the hallway- Root beaming, Shaw indifferent- for the single photo.  _And as the months have gone by_ , Sameen thinks, biting the inside of her lip,  _we are one of the few pictured couples that stayed together_. Lately, yearbook had been talking, trying to snap an action shot in the halls, to what Sameen decides is no avail.

With a sigh, she brings both hands down on her legs, pushing to a standing position. She shuts of the television, not interested, and heads up the stairs. Sameen walks down the floor’s main hall, coming to a stop at the side closet. Rummaging through, she pulls out a small bottle of Tylenol, reading the label.  _This should do_ , she thinks, hearing the water trickling to a stop. Sameen closes the closet’s bi-fold door, then leans against it, waiting.

Within the minute, the bathroom door swings open with a small creak, and Root walks out in a towel.

"Looking better already," Sameen says, pushing off the wall and walking forward. Root turns her head to face her in slight surprise, but smiles. Sameen hands her the small medicine bottle. "You can take two now," Sameen tells her in a serious tone, "and two more around one." Root takes the bottle gingerly, a slightly shy smile coming to her features.

"You’re such a good doctor," she tells Sameen, walking into her room. Sameen shrugs casually, following. She watches as Root quickly takes the medicine, then inspects her face in the mirror. "Guess I am looking up," she muses aloud, bringing a hand to her eye. Turning, she stops facing Sameen. "I need to get dressed."

Sameen nods in agreement. “Okay.”

Root sets her jaw, trying not to smile, but feeling one pushing through none the less. Her tongue rolls across her mouth with some disbelief before she speaks. “That means  _get out,_ " her voice is kind, hints of amusement lacing around the words. Sameen gives her a half smile, walking from the room. She leans, looking opposite of the room on the door frame, mind wandering once more. To Root.  _Is she alright?_  She thinks, worry in her thoughts- worry that could never be spoken aloud. It had been nearly five days, and only now did Root seem to be showing any improvement. _Hopefully it’ll be over with soon._

Sameen feels a hand on her upper arm, and is pulled around to face Root. Her face is still pale, but there is more life in it now, and the bags under her eyes are not as dark. “Help me study,” Root says, voice still coming off hoarse, and Sameen walks back into the room. Sameen kicks off her converse, tossing her jacket over them on the floor, and lays on Root’s bed, watching as she grabs the textbooks from her closet. Coming over, Root sits with crossed legs on the bed, cracking open her Calculus book.

"This is the one test that is gonna suck," Sameen says, pushing herself into a sitting position while Root nods.

"So, determine if the following function is continuous at x=1." Root shifts the book to the side, and Sameen scoots closer to her so both can read the book.

"No," Sameen answers in a voice showing little interest.

"You can’t know that for  _sure_ ,” Root responds skeptically, bringing a pencil to her loose leaf, quickly sorting through the equation. Once finished, her eyes swell. “How did you  _know_  that?” Root demands.

 _I did all the problems last night while you were sleeping_. “Just looked right.” Sameen lies, and Root narrows her eyes.

"Number two?" Root challenges, and Sameen smiles. Glancing at the page, she looks up, scrunching her brow for good measure before answering.

"Also no." Once more, Root solves the problem before her, then slams her pencil down.

"That’s- that’s-" She stammers, flustered, and Sameen laughs.

"Lucky guess?" Sameen offers, to which Root narrows her eyes again. After a moment, her mouth opens in an accusatory ‘O’.

"You already  _did_  these!” Root spits out heatedly, and Sameen smirks. Root shakes her head with a smile, then flips through the pages in the book. “Definitions, then,” Root says, clearing her throat. Sameen tilts her head to the side, waiting for the game to begin.

"What is a bounded function?" Root asks, eyes down on the book. Sameen purses her lips in thought.

"A function that is bounded," she answers sarcastically, and Root lifts her eyebrows.

” _Clever_ ,” she quips, flipping to the next page.

"Hey,  _wait_ ,” Sameen says coming right up beside Root. “Need to know what it really is.” She leans over Root, flipping the page back to read.

"You’re going to get sick sitting this close to me," Root warns, handing the textbook over to Sameen. Sameen rolls her eyes.

"I’m not afraid of a little  _bug_ ,” she replies matter-of-factly. She brings her face an inch from Root’s, whose amused smile falters. “Not at all.” Root’s eyes flicker to Shaw’s lips, then back to her eyes. A nervous laugh escapes her lips, feeling the butterflies roaring in her stomach.

"If you’re gonna do what I  _think_  it is you’re gonna do,” Root’s voice is quiet, heart hammering in her chest, “then you are  _definitely_  going to get sick.”

Sameen smirks, sending Root’s butterflies soaring, and she has to fight to keep them at bay. Her eyes scan Root’s for a minute.

"What are you doing?" Root whispers, voice taken.

"Trying to decide on whether I care or not." Root gives a quick smile, too overcome with her flaming nerves to keep it for long. She can feel her glasses sliding on her nose- can see the fog creeping in along their bottom rims- but is too transfixed to move. Suddenly, she feels a burning in the back of her throat.  _Oh no_ , she thinks, eyes sliding open in dread. The burning travels up to her nose, then slips down the bridge.  _No no no,_ her thoughts are panicked. She goes to pull back, but is not nearly quick enough.

"Ahh- _CHOO_!” Her head jerks down, and Sameen instantly closes her eyes, face scrunching up, lips tight. Root looks up, seeing Sameen’s expression. “Oh my  _gosh,_ " she exclaims in mortification. "Oh my  _gosh_ , Sam, I’m  _so_  sorry, I didn’t-” she trails off as Sameen takes the bottom of her shirt in her hands. Without opening her eyes, she wipes her face. With each second, Root’s dread grows, until it is a black hole in the pit of her stomach. Sameen opens her eyes, letting her face fall back into its expressionless norm, but Root can see the thought of a shudder in her dark eyes. Root wipes her nose on a tissue, jaw slack and eyes embarrassed and nervous. “I-  _I_ -“

"It’s fine," Sameen assures her, rolling her neck. After a moment, she smiles to herself.

"What is it?" Root asks fretfully. Sameen’s smile widens a little.

"Definitely going to be sick  _now_ ,” she says with the smallest of laughs in her voice. “So; doesn’t matter  _what_  I do.” Root tilts her head back to the ceiling, wishing the heat in her cheeks would leave, then rest her head despairingly on Sameen’s shoulder. Re-positioning the textbook on her lap, Sameen gives Root’s forehead a quick kiss before returning her attention to studying.

___________\ P.O.I. High /____________

A week had gone by- a terrible week. As Sameen predicted, she was sick from Thursday on, missing the entire weekend for a bathroom and a bed. Root was barely recovered, the worst of it was over, but the best was yet to come.

So, with heavy eyelids and dragging feet, the two meandered through the day. After lunch, they headed for Literature. Sameen had only eaten a sandwich, feeling too awful still to have anything more, but too prideful to admit it. Her skin was pale, purple bruises below her eyes, but she refused to show any weakness in it. Although she laughed with John and Harold at the lunch table, Root could easily see how fatigued she truly was. Part of her- no, most of her- felt guilt at making Sameen this way, so she clung haphazardly close to make sure she was alright.

"Root, I’m fine, honest," Sameen assures Root for the sixth time on their walk to class alone. Coming to Mrs. Highbrooks’s class, she greets them both with warm smiles.

"Good to see the two of you back," she tells them warmly. Root smiles with thanks; Sameen merely gives a nod. They take their seats next to each other, in groups of four for the latest assignment. Soon, students file in quickly, and to boys- Bill and Trent- take their seats across from Root and Shaw. Usually the obnoxious duo in class, they had voiced barely an outspoken peep since being put in their group. Sameen thinks with satisfaction of the first, true encounter with them. Put into groups in April- starting the new lesson. Trent called out a snarky comment, followed up by Bill. Sameen bristled, but said nothing. Then, it happened again.  _'Listen up,'_  she told the two quietly, no play in her threat.  _'You speak one more thing that pisses me off while we're in these groups, and I will cut your balls off and give them to you for Easter. Understand?'_ Sameen remembers their terrified exchange in looks, knowing that if they were to take anyone seriously, it would be her.

The second bell rings just as John slips through the door, and he walks over to his group. Root slides her hand off her desk, wrapping her fingers around Sameen’s in her lap. Sameen barely acknowledges the notion, her face revealing nothing, but she gives Root’s hand a small squeeze. Just as Mrs. Highbrooks begins to talk, the intercom crackles to life.

"Good afternoon," a fellow Senior’s voice washes over the room. "The polls are in for our graduating class. The results are as follows:" Everyone looks around, whispers filled with electric anticipation.

"Class clown: Robert Nightsmith." From down the hall there is a loud wallop, and everyone lets out a small laugh.

"Most athletic: John Baker." A boy in their class stands triumphantly, muscles rippling across his body as he does a small victory dance. Down the line they go, from most school spirited, to shortest and tallest- some getting no noise, some getting a standing ovation.

"Most likely to overthrow the  _world_ :” Kids chuckle to themselves, knowing this is the joke category. “Sameen Shaw.” Students instantly erupt with rumbling laughter, clapping and hooting, while Sameen does nothing except roll her eyes. Root can feel Sameen’s hand tighten on hers.

"Best car: John Reese." John lets an indulgent smile come to his lips momentarily, a couple boys around clapping him on the back. He looks over to Sameen, who gives him a congratulatory nod. His eyes say that he still isn’t over her grand theft auto.

"And last but not least, cutest couple: Root Groves and Sameen Shaw. Everyone come down to the front office foyer to get your photos taken." With that, the intercom goes off. Root sits, shell shocked but ecstatic. Sameen, on the other hand, is filled with final understanding.  _That explains it all_ , she thinks, mind finally at ease.  _The whispering, the watching- they knew_. Shaking her head, Sameen stands, Roots hand still in hers as they head out to the foyer.

"How ‘bout a  _kiss_  for the happy couple?!” Sameen whips her head around, eyes daggers on John’s smug voice.

"Go to Hell," she retorts, then stalks from the classroom.

All around, students walk with beamish faces towards the office, feeling pride in their accomplishments. Looking to her right, Sameen sees that Root wears a similar expression, only it is masked with what Sameen can only assume is worry.

"What’s wrong?" Shaw asks as they round the corner.

Root shakes her head. “Just nervous, I guess.” Sameen nods, knowing the feeling. They come to a group of yearbook students with cameras at the ready. A girl beckons to them with a smile that touches her ears, eyes glassy as she bounces with excitement.

"I’m too tired for this  _crap_ ,” Sameen sighs, walking over to the pale blue wall. The girl looks at them, and her large smile lessens momentarily.

Root, wondering why, looks over at Sameen. In a wave, it comes to her. _We look like a train wreck gone down in flames._  Sameen’s skin under her eyes is the color of plums, standing out more so by the flush of her usually light tan skin. Her ponytail is messy, random strands of hair frizzing out to all sides. Root can only imagine how she too must look in the eyes of this photographer. Looking in the reflection of an office window, she sees her own untamed hair. The bags under her eyes are not as evident, but her nose is red. Running her tongue over her lips, she feels them rough and cracked from days of sickness. Suppressing a hysteric laugh, she poses as told beside Sameen. She’s facing forward, arm touching Sameen’s, heads turned to the side to look at each other.

"Now… Smile!" Root does as she’s told, giving Sameen a warm grin; Sameen barely smirks at what she finds unbelievable in this all. There is a flash, and it is over. The girl beckons to them, and after an extended moment watching each other, Sameen rolls her eyes, then comes forward. On the camera’s screen is the photo. Even Sameen can’t suppress a smile.  _A zombified version of everything we are_ , she thinks humorously.  _Perfect._


End file.
